Hanging By A Moment
by Helga Von Nutwimple
Summary: Monica Becker returns to New York and finds that everything's changed... or has it? As she confronts her conflicting memories, she takes a surreal trip through the other things that are. A companion piece to "The Other Gold". INCOMPLETE.
1. A Relationship With A Future

A/N: Allrighty then!  
  
I started off with this story, and got lots of negative mail & reviews from people who hated where the plot was going, begging me to make it a dream or in some other way not real. So I did... and now I'm getting negative mail & reviews from people who actually liked it before and *now* detest it, are confused, knew where the original story was going and liked it better, etc.  
  
Color me frustrated.  
  
So here's what I'm doing. There will now be *two* copies of the first two chapters up on FF.net... one called "Hanging By A Moment", with the revised plot beginning in Chapter Three, and one called "The Other Gold", with the plot I had originally intended. So if you're reading either one for the first time, the chapter duplication is *intentional*.  
  
So read whichever one you preferred.  
  
In a way, the stories will end up being companion pieces. "The Other Gold" will fully explore the reality only visited by Monica in "Hanging By A Moment". Depending on people's reactions, I may do other companion pieces fleshing out the vignettes Monica warps through in "Hanging By A Moment"... we'll see. And if there's an alternate reality you'd like to see Monica warp through, leave a review. I've already received a few, and *will* be doing one Monica/Chandler reality, as well as a Rachel/Will (Brad Pitt).  
  
Onward...  
  
--------  
  
Prologue  
  
October 1998  
  
"We-he-hellll," Chandler drawled, leaning against Monica's doorframe. "*You* look just... beyond yummy."  
  
He crossed behind her, taking her hips in his hands, leaning down to murmur against her neck. "You didn't have to get all dressed up for me, you know..."  
  
Monica winced, lowering her lipstick tube. "Chandler... I'm not, actually."  
  
"Not actually... what?"  
  
"Dressed up for you."  
  
He blinked, taking a step back. "You, uh... have some work party or something?"  
  
"I have a... date." She stuck in her earrings, keeping her eyes on her dressing table.  
  
"Oh!" he blurted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, that's stupendous. T-that's fantastic. I mean, I... I couldn't be more happy for you!"  
  
"Look, Chandler, I... I know we've been fooling around lately, but... I'm a little old for that, you know? I need to be in a real relationship. One that has a future. We're fun, but... we're not going anywhere. I mean... that's why I broke up with Richard. Twice. I can't... I can't get myself in that situation again, no matter how much fun we have."  
  
Chandler stuffed his hands in his pockets and avoided her eyes. "Right."  
  
"Chandler, I'm sorry... but... don't you agree with me?"  
  
"Oh, sure! Yeah, totally. I'm gonna... I'm gonna go see what Joe's up to. You, uh... you have fun on your date, okay?"  
  
He leaned in awkwardly and kissed her forehead, striding out of the room and gently shutting the door of Apartment 20 behind him.  
  
Before slamming the hell out of the door to Apartment 19.  
  
***  
  
June 1999  
  
"I thought you didn't smoke anymore," Richard said, dropping wearily to the steps beside Chandler and pulling a cigar out of his pocket.  
  
Chandler looked up, flicking ashes to the step below their dress shoes. "Yeah, well... it seemed like a good day to take it up again."  
  
"I hear ya," Richard laughed. "It seemed like a good day not to quit."  
  
"Here," Chandler said, fishing his Zippo out of his pocket and lighting the tip of Richard's cigar.  
  
Richard puffed until it ignited, regarding Chandler sadly. "You're in love with her, too."  
  
"Well sure, yeah, but other than that... *bitchin* wedding, right?"  
  
"I'd expect nothing less from Monica."  
  
Chandler barked harsh laughter. "Especially with unlimited funds."  
  
"Monica Becker," Richard mused, plucking at the knee of his dress pants. "That's really just a horrible, horrible last name."  
  
"She seems to like it."  
  
"Chandler?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Would you like to go get really, *really* drunk and feel *very* sorry for ourselves?"  
  
"Always knew I liked you, m'man," Chandler cried, clapping Richard on the back.  
  
***  
  
Christmas 1999  
  
"Oh holy *crap*," Phoebe burst out. "You guys... oh my god... come here!"  
  
"You opened your card from Monica already?" Rachel crossed the living room, Santa hat drooping on her head. "Pheebs... we were gonna do that *together*."  
  
"Hold it up, Pheebs, what'd she..." Chandler blinked. "Holy Mary Mother of God!" He sprinted for the tree, where Rachel had stuck their Monica envelopes among the branches.  
  
"Well, there's my rent for the next three years," Phoebe stuttered, pulling out the check and gaping at it.  
  
"What'd the card say?" Joey asked.  
  
"Dearest Phoebe, we hope you're having a Merry Christmas. We weren't sure what you'd like, so we got you this. We're in Paris right now, but we'll give you a call at New Year's. Love, Monica and Pete."  
  
"What does yours say, Chandler?"  
  
"Dearest Chandler," Chandler read. "We hope you're having a Merry Christmas. We weren't sure what you'd like, so we got you this. We're in Paris right now, but we'll give you a call at New Year's."  
  
The card dropped slowly in his hand. "Love, Monica and Pete."  
  
"Ross? How about you?"  
  
"The same."  
  
"Gimme that," Chandler said, grabbing Ross's card and holding it up next to his. "This is a *handwriting font*, you guys. It's a *mail merge* from a *database*."  
  
"Hey, it's Sherlock Nerd," Phoebe quipped half-heartedly.  
  
"She didn't even sign the checks. It's a stamp." Chandler shoved Ross' card back at him. "Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-*blech*."  
  
"I'm her *brother*," Ross said softly, turning the red envelope over and over in his hands.  
  
Chandler's cellphone chirped, and he held it to his ear. "Chandler Bing..."  
  
He put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Richard got one too. And so did your parents, Ross."  
  
Chandler wandered into the guest room to talk to Richard, and the other four sat around the coffee table glumly.  
  
"Wow," Joey finally said. "This is the first time I've ever held a check this big and felt bad about it." He considered. "Actually, this is the first time I've ever held a check this big."  
  
"Well, maybe she just didn't have time to shop," Phoebe said. "I mean, she's jetting all over, y'know, going to foreign countries like Japan, um, and France..."  
  
"And Vermont," Joey said helpfully.  
  
"Uh-huh. And maybe she didn't have time to shop."  
  
Phoebe looked at the clock, then the silent phone. "Or call."  
  
***  
  
February 2003  
  
"Oh, c'mon... *answer*," Monica Becker sighed, pressing the "end" button on her phone with a groan. "You can't have *all* moved."  
  
She looked out at the blizzard currently turning New York into a blank page, sighing to herself. She really should have called them more, kept in touch... she'd just kept telling herself she'd do it tomorrow. And then there'd been another benefit, another opening, another ski trip in the Alps, another opera...  
  
She dialed another set of numbers, waited.  
  
"Hi, you've reached Chandler and Joey's. We're screening our calls. Here comes the beep, impress us."  
  
Oh, thank god. At least some things hadn't changed. "Hi, guys, it's Monica. The blizzard grounded our jet, and I thought I'd see what you guys were up to. If you're really screening, pick up."  
  
Silence. "Okay, I guess you're really not there. I'm gonna go by Central Perk and see if anybody shows up... if you get this message, my cell number is..."  
  
She finished leaving her message and pressed the button to lower the window separating her and her driver. "Malcolm? It's that little red shop, up there. You can just drop me off, I'll probably have to wait a while."  
  
"Certainly, Mrs. Becker."  
  
She grabbed her purse and stepped out of the limo, struggling to see against the dense and blinding snow, waving a gloved hand for Malcolm to go.  
  
Monica wrapped her coat tighter, stepping up onto the curb. Her first cup of Central Perk coffee in, what? Four years? It was gonna taste like heaven.  
  
She reached the window, breathed a hole in the frost and peered inside, searching out the orange couch.  
  
It wasn't there.  
  
Monica ran her glove over the glass, cutting a thicker view, and gasped.  
  
Bookshelves. Row after row of bookshelves.  
  
She ran to the front door, repeating the process on the window, revealing words etched in glass.  
  
"The Bookworm Fine Used Books."  
  
Monica stepped back in horror, then ran across the street, craning her neck upwards.  
  
Christmas lights.  
  
Only one person still had their Christmas lights up in February.  
  
Rachel still lived here. And judging from the light inside... she was home.  
  
***  
  
Monica knocked on the door of apartment 20, shaking the snow off her boots impatiently.  
  
"Ross... Ross, honey, will you see who that is?"  
  
A surge of happiness... following by an equally large share of guilt... crashed through Monica's chest. Rachel and Ross... her best friend and her brother... had gotten back together... and she didn't know.   
  
"I suck," she mumbled, brushing her hair back beneath her cap. "I really, really suck."  
  
The door cracked.  
  
"Mon?" Ross said in shock. He turned and called over his shoulder. "Hey, you guys... it's, uh, it's *Monica*!"  
  
"Well, uh, hey -- hey, Mon," Ross said awkwardly, turning back to her. "So what... what are you doing in town?"  
  
"Our jet got grounded. The snow, y'know. So do I... do I get to come *in*?" she said pointedly. Ross was still standing with the door cracked.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure. Of course." Ross took the chain off and opened the door.  
  
"Oh, wow," Monica breathed. "It's... it's *different*."  
  
The apartment was a sea of dark wood and neutrals... not what she'd expected from Rachel at all. It looked like... it looked like she'd invited Ralph Lauren over and told him to go to town.   
  
Well, that made sense, Monica thought to herself. She probably got a discount.  
  
She shook her head, grabbing Ross in a hug. "It's so good to see you!"  
  
"It's good to see you, too, Sis," he said... and then his eyes flashed toward the bedroom for the seventh time in a minute.  
  
"I can't believe you got back together with Rachel and didn't tell me," Monica laughed, hitting him lightly on the arm.  
  
"Back with... oh, no." Ross chuckled. "We're just visiting."  
  
"We?"  
  
"Uh. Me and my girlfriend."  
  
"Oh!"  
  
"Me and... Pheebs."  
  
"Pheebs?" Monica said slowly, shaking her head. "You and Pheebs and your girlfriend?"  
  
"Um, no, actually. Me and my girlfriend... Pheebs."  
  
"You're dating Phoebe?"  
  
"Have been for a while, yeah." Ross said, smiling a little. "It's good, Mon. It's really good."  
  
"Wow," Monica whispered. "Well, um. Wow. I wasn't expecting *that*!"  
  
"A lot's changed," Ross said. "Actually, I, uh... I think me n' Pheebs are going to be the smallest shock you get tonight."  
  
"What... what do you mean by *that*?"  
  
"Hi, Mon," Rachel said softly, walking out of the bedroom door.  
  
"Hey, Rach! Ross just told me about him and Phoebe! I'm still recovering!" She laughed, pulling off her gloves. "How have you been?"  
  
"I've been great," Rachel said. "Really happy, um..."  
  
"Hey, Monica," Richard said, coming out of the bathroom.  
  
"R-Richard? What are you... what are you doing here?"  
  
"He lives here," Rachel said, arms wrapping around herself defensively.  
  
"He lives here," Monica repeated.  
  
"Yeah... I... well... y'know. Made my parents happy, right? Married a doctor..."  
  
"Mah," Monica said, trying to force her suddenly numb tongue to make syllables. "Mah."  
  
"Married," Richard finished helpfully, holding up his left hand.  
  
"You're dating Pheebs?" Monica stammered, "And you married *Richard*? How... how... how did it... how'd *that* happen?"  
  
"Well, I started hanging out with Chandler a lot..." Richard began.  
  
"This is a joke, right?" Monica blurted. "It's a joke. That's why it took you so long to let me in, you were coming up with this! It's f-funny! Good one, you guys!"  
  
Ross, Rachel, and Richard shared an uneasy look as Monica continued to giggle.  
  
"Monica... it's not a joke."  
  
"Right," she laughed.  
  
Ross sighed. "Look, Pheebs should be back in a minute, why don't you go out in the hall and ask her."  
  
"Sure! Right! Richard probably called her cellphone from the bathroom." Monica wiped tears of laughter out of her eyes. "You guys are too much. Where are Joey and Chandler?"  
  
"They're across the hall," Ross said, "but Mon... look... we should probably talk..."  
  
"You crazy guys," Monica sighed, pushing the door open and heading out towards the hallway. "I'll be back in a minute."  
  
She rapped on the door to 19, smiling as Chandler answered the door.  
  
"Well hey, hey there, hey Mon..." he stuttered, swinging the door wide.  
  
Monica's eyes roamed around the apartment. Same posters, same Barcoloungers, same foosball table... same old Chandler in his ratty blue bathrobe, same old Joey parked in the chair with Hugsy.  
  
"Oh, thank god," she sighed. "At least one place is like I remembered it."  
  
"You, uh... you wanna come in?"  
  
Monica strode past Chandler, setting her gloves on the counter as he closed the door behind them. "You have no idea how happy I am to see this place, to see you guys. I should have known you two would be the one constant in the universe."  
  
"Gimme a hug, Mon," Joey said, setting Hugsy aside and taking her in his arms. "You want something to drink?"  
  
"That would be great." Monica sat down on a bar stool, regarding the old bachelor pad fondly as Joey pulled a glass out of the cabinet. "I'm a little freaked out, I mean... you would not *believe* the trick the other guys just pulled on me."  
  
"Really," Joey said, shooting Chandler a look and setting Monica's glass in front of her.  
  
Monica sipped her drink. "Oh yeah! I mean, adding that to finding out Central Perk is gone..."  
  
"Yeah, it's been gone a while," Chandler added, leaning on the counter across from her. "I think it closed down in... when was it, Joe? 2000?"  
  
"Somethin' like that."  
  
"Anyway, it's just a huge relief to see some things don't change."  
  
"Um..." Joey said awkwardly. "Actually, Mon... I think everything changes."  
  
"Not you guys! There's Laurel and Hardy, there's Hugsy, there's the duck!"  
  
"There's something else," Chandler said softly. Joey reached across and took his hand.  
  
"Something else... what?"  
  
"Um," Chandler jerked his head towards his and Joey's intertwined hands.  
  
"No seriously, what?"  
  
Joey bounced Chandler's hand up and down a bit, and Monica finally noticed.  
  
Chandler and Joey both blinked and stepped backwards as she spat juice all over them. 


	2. It Wouldn't Be In Winter

Monica ran across the street and sat down heavily on a bench, hands dangling limply between her knees. The snow soaked her legs, making her lower half very nearly as numb and frozen as her brain.  
  
She's told Chandler and Joey that she had to meet Pete for dinner... which was, of course, a lie. It turned out that marrying Monica Geller had been a lot like winning the Ultimate Fighting Championship... once Pete had accomplished it, he'd lost all interest. It was one of the reasons she'd been so excited to see them all again... to revisit a world where she mattered.  
  
But she didn't, did she? Not to them.  
  
The front bell of her old apartment building jangled, and Rachel stepped through a door held by Richard, wrapping her scarf around her and calling back through the doorway. Monica quickly slid behind the bench, thankful she'd worn white.  
  
The rest of them followed, spilling out the door and onto the sidewalk like the curtain call of her past. Phoebe snuck a handful of snow down the back of Ross' coat, and he whirled, laughing... Richard captured Rachel's small lavender mitten in his own large black glove, leaning down to whisper in her ear. Chandler and Joey danced out in front, chasing each other into the street, peacoats swung out like capes, powder flying in arcs from their shoes, attempting to sling their scarves in each other's faces using only hula-hoopish neck motions.  
  
They looked like a postcard. They looked so *happy*. The only thing missing... was her.  
  
Only... only they didn't seem to notice.  
  
Chandler turned back to the group, yelling words the wind stole from her. She'd always loved him in that coat, thought it made him look like a poet, or a dark stranger...  
  
Joey ruined the illusion, smashing a snowball on top of Chandler's head. Chandler caught his wrist and whirled, pulling Joey to him, capturing his lips in a kiss that grew more heated as the others laughed and walked ahead.  
  
Monica's stomach rolled with a mixture of jealousy, nausea, and fascination. She'd almost forgotten kissing Chandler, forgotten how different he was from the other men she'd known... forgotten how his eyes flared with heat and then closed with almost holy reverence... almost forgotten how he kissed, mouth open and hungry, the way his hands would trace her jawline in wonder, the pressure of his lower lip, the slow and irresistable heat of him.  
  
But he wasn't kissing her... he was kissing Joey, his fingers tangling into Joey's dark hair, Joey's hands sliding up his stomach, snow falling all around them. It was like a beautiful painting... of her worst nightmare.  
  
"Okay, you two, get a room!" Phoebe bellowed. "We're gonna be late!"  
  
Chandler and Joey broke off the kiss, laughing, and ran to catch up with the others.  
  
Monica stumbled back onto the bench, hands groping in the snow for support. It was true. They couldn't have faked that, not even for her benefit, there was no way... she'd felt Chandler's passion from across the street. And if *that* was true, then all of it was. Pheebs and her brother.  
  
*Rachel* and *Richard*.  
  
Richard... oh, God...  
  
She should go back to the hotel. Now. Run like hell for the Presidential Suite, climb into the whirlpool, wrap a robe around her, leaf through a magazine, pretend this night had never happened. Pretend it was a dream, a nightmare concocted of jet lag and too many bags of peanuts. Leave her memories of them the way they were supposed to be... not this, this Dali interpretation of her world she'd stumbled into.  
  
"You forgot these."  
  
Monica's head snapped up. Phoebe stood in front of her, holding out her hand... which held Monica's gloves.  
  
"How'd you...?"  
  
"I'm psychic, remember? Also, you're wearing a *really* bright red beret."  
  
Monica's hand flew to her hat, and her face flared to match.  
  
"Nobody else saw you," Phoebe added gently. "Look -- I told Ross I was coming over here, he'll make my excuses. You wanna get some coffee?"  
  
"Yeah... from Central Perk," Monica muttered. "Fat chance of that, though..."  
  
Phoebe touched Monica's arm. "Gunther works at a place four blocks down. Coffee tastes just the same."  
  
Monica stood, dusting the snow off. "Everything... everything changed, Pheebs."  
  
"Yeah, Mon... it did. Of course it did. Everything does." She took Monica's arm in hers. "C'mon."  
  
"Not... not *this* much." Monica brushed her hair away from her face. "I just... I just don't understand how this *happened*."  
  
Phoebe pushed her hat down, squinting against the wind. "Well... where do you want me to start?" 


	3. Schroedinger's Cat

A/N: This wasn't where I was going with this one originally... but since I received so many requests...  
  
----------------------  
  
"I just... I just don't understand it," Monica sighed, shaking a packet of Sweet n' Low. "I mean, Rachel and Richard? Chandler and Joey? You and Ross kinda freak me out, too... but..."  
  
"Yeah, you took the whole thing really badly," Phoebe sighed. "I still can't believe you didn't go to Rachel's wedding."  
  
Monica stopped, staring at Phoebe. "I didn't *know* about Rachel's wedding."  
  
"Yes, you did. You put your invitation through Pete's industrial shredder and cried for a week. Of course, you didn't tell *them* that... they always thought you just didn't get it."  
  
"I *didn't* get it, Pheebs," Monica snapped. "I'd remember that."  
  
Phoebe smiled, leaning across the table. "What *do* you remember, Monica?"  
  
Monica didn't answer, her eyes riveted on Phoebe's coffee cup.  
  
"Monica? Earth to Monica?"  
  
"Pheebs..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Your hand is... your hand is going *through* your cup."  
  
Phoebe laughed, looking down, pulling her hand out of the saucer and through the napkin holder. Monica realized suddenly that she could see the outline of a specialty coffee rack through her friend's form.  
  
"Pheebs... am I asleep?"  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
"What's wrong with you?"  
  
"I could ask you the same question."  
  
Monica looked down and stifled a scream. Her arm was resting halfway in the table.  
  
"What... what is..."  
  
"You're not here."  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"You went back to the hotel. Read a magazine. Went back into denial... you told Pete they'd all moved away."  
  
"It's getting really... it's getting really hot in here."  
  
***  
  
"Where is *here*, Monica?"  
  
Monica tried to open her eyes and couldn't... then found she couldn't move. It was dark, the kind of dark she'd never experienced, all-encompassing. She'd never been able to picture "a formless void" before... now, she couldn't stop the phrase from repeating in her mind.  
  
"It's so hot, Pheebs." But her lips weren't moving.  
  
"Of course it's hot, Mon. It's always hot at the beach."  
  
***  
  
"God, you're so beautiful."  
  
Chandler's voice. Monica smiled, snuggling deeper into her pillow.  
  
"How in the hell did I get so lucky?" he continued.  
  
"Ssh, honey... you'll wake up Monica."  
  
Monica's eyes popped open, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling in the moonlight, mildew stains spreading out across it like exotic blooms.  
  
She turned to her left. The edge of a twin bed stretched out in front of her, meeting the green plaid wallpaper. Everything smelled musty and wet.  
  
She knew that paper, knew that smell.  
  
"Ohhhhhhhhh..."  
  
And oh God, she knew that moan.  
  
She rolled to her right.  
  
Across the valley between the twin beds, Rachel moved rhythmically on top of Chandler, her long hair falling like a curtain around his face, their foreheads pressed together, tan skin sliding over tan skin, moving in and out of the shadows.  
  
"This isn't... this isn't the way this happened," Monica whispered in confusion.  
  
"Yes, it is."  
  
Phoebe was standing in a corner of the room, holding a conch shell. She held it up to the window, admiring the colors.  
  
"No, it *isn't*. Chandler, Joey and I played gin rummy all night... Rachel was off with *Ross*."  
  
"No, she wasn't. Not this time."  
  
"We are *so* gonna get caught," Rachel whispered, running her fingers down the side of Chandler's face.  
  
"No we're not," he laughed quietly. "We haven't yet, anyway..."  
  
"Stop it!" Monica cried.  
  
Rachel and Chandler sped up, Chandler's eyes rolling back in his head, his hand groping out, clutching the bedspread, biting his lip to keep quiet. Rachel's breath grew shallow, her fingernails raking down Chandler's chest. Their shadows loomed on the opposite wall, one writhing creature.  
  
"Stop it, dammit, I'm right *here*!"  
  
"Don't stop," Chandler whispered. "Oh god, Rach... don't stop..."  
  
"Hello?" Monica screeched, leaping to her feet and putting her face right next to Rachel's. "Hello?"  
  
Rachel bucked wildly, collapsing on top of Chandler, who slid his arms around her and held her tightly.  
  
"I love you," Rachel whispered.  
  
"I love you, too," Chandler sighed.  
  
"No you don't! No, you DON'T!!" Monica whirled to face Phoebe. "What the *hell* is going on?"  
  
Phoebe merely pointed towards Monica's bed. Monica followed her finger.  
  
She was lying there, still asleep, dark hair spread out on the pillow, covers bunched under her chin.  
  
"Yeah, you sleep through the whole thing," Phoebe said. "You don't find out about them for a few more months. Right now, only Joey knows."  
  
"Ross is gonna *kill* them!"  
  
"Ross will be happy for them. Why would he mind? He's still happily married to Carol."  
  
"But Carol's a..."  
  
"Carol never met Susan. She was too pregnant to go to the gym."  
  
"Pregnant with..."  
  
"Oh, his name's not Ben," Phoebe smiled. "His name's *Darwin*."  
  
"But..."  
  
"Remember the night you and Kip broke up? How you showed up on Ross' doorstep crying, kind of ruined a romantic evening he had planned?"  
  
"Um... yeah... vaguely..."  
  
"You got a cold. You and Kip didn't go on your date that night. You didn't break up for another week."  
  
"Rachel and Chandler are *screwing* two feet away from me... because I got a *cold*?"  
  
"Don't feel bad," Phoebe smiled. "They make you the baby's Godmother."  
  
"What are you?" Monica demanded. "The Ghost of Christmas Past or something?"  
  
"Yoooooou will be visited by threeeeee..." Phoebe intoned, then burst into giggles. "Nah, I can't even do it with a straight face. I'm not a ghost, Mon. I'm you."  
  
Phoebe considered. "Sort of."  
  
"You are *so* cute," Rachel breathed, tracing Chandler's jawline. "How did you get to be so cute?"  
  
"Well," Chandler grinned. "My Grandfather was Swedish... and my Grand-*mother*... was actually a tiny little bunny." He held up fingers to demonstrate.  
  
"Oh, god... now you're even cuter...!" Rachel moaned, dropping her face into the hollow of his neck.  
  
Monica whirled, glaring at Phoebe accusingly.  
  
"Whatcha lookin' at me for?" Phoebe smiled. "Something ring a bell?"  
  
The anger slid off Monica's face, replaced by confusion. "No... I don't... I don't *know* why that made me so mad..."  
  
"Maybe you're having a hard time... concentrating?" Phoebe smiled, as Chandler and Rachel began kissing again.  
  
"Yes. Yes, dammit!"  
  
"We could talk somewhere else."  
  
"Could it *not* include Chandler playing tonsil hockey?"  
  
"Oh... I think that could be arranged."  
  
***  
  
"Awww," Phoebe said. "Isn't he *cute*."  
  
Chandler was cuddled up in the middle of his bed in boxers, reading a book, tapping ashes into a tray he'd propped on his stomach.  
  
"He's not *cute*. He's *smoking*," Monica said in disgust. "Where am I? I'll kick his ass."  
  
"You're in New York... of course."  
  
"Where... where is he?"  
  
"Winter Park, Florida."  
  
"What's he doing there?"  
  
"He landed a job after he graduated from Rollins."  
  
"Chandler didn't go to *Rollins*," Monica sighed. "He *went* to NYU."  
  
"Sure, sure... he did. For two years. Then he transferred."  
  
"Why? Why? What, did I neglect to buy *gum* one Thursday?"  
  
Phoebe laid down on the bed next to Chandler, peering over his shoulder at his book. "Look at his feet."  
  
"He has... he has all his toes."  
  
"Yup. You didn't drop the knife... but you *did* get him naked and leave him out in the front yard."  
  
"Oh my god," Monica breathed.  
  
"It wasn't so bad, really," Phoebe smiled. "At least, until you and Rachel had hundreds of copies made of the photos and posted them all around campus."  
  
Monica sat on the edge of Chandler's bed. "He moved... he moved away? We never became friends?"  
  
"No... but you *totally* got him back for calling you fat. You still tell the story at parties."  
  
"Is he... is he always alone like this?"  
  
"Pretty much. But hey, you wanted to talk, go ahead..."  
  
"I... I don't want to talk here," Monica stuttered, reaching out her hand to touch Chandler's face.   
  
Her fingers went right through him.  
  
"It's too sad," Monica sighed.  
  
Monica stood, crossing her arms. "Somewhere *happy*. Somewhere *fun*. And if anybody's having sex, it had by-god better be *me*."  
  
***  
  
"Not with Joey!" Monica screeched, shielding her eyes from the bed. "Did I have to specify 'not with Joey'?"  
  
"What's wrong with this?" Phoebe asked, circling the bed. "It's what you came here for."  
  
Monica glanced around the room, carefully avoiding the two enthusiastic figures on the bed. "London."  
  
"He really does have just the most amazing ass," Phoebe marveled longingly.  
  
"But... where's Chandler?"  
  
Phoebe grinned, turned, and walked through the bathroom door. Monica gingerly followed.  
  
Chandler was leaning against the sink, eyes bulged out, biting his nails. From inside the bathroom, Monica could hear clearly... and watch Chandler wince in sync to... the sounds of her and Joey's passion.  
  
"We trapped him in here?"  
  
"You don't know he's here. But you won't believe the laughs he'll get when he tells this story during his best man's toast."  
  
"I marry Joey?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Pheebs?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Which... um. Which one of these is real?"  
  
"That... is a very interesting question." 


End file.
